


That Which Makes a Person

by Musickat18



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Fluffy Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), It is now, Romantic Fluff, angsty fluff, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 15:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musickat18/pseuds/Musickat18
Summary: As the force continues to connect them, Ben is forced to deal with the emotional consequences of his actions. To get what he wants he'll have to make some changes.





	That Which Makes a Person

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking! I have a multi-chapter I should be working on, but really felt in the mood for some fluff. So I sat down and this happened. Enjoy! :)

He walked into his quarters that night feeling particularly exhausted. Some days were harder than others, pretending that he didn’t miss her, that he enjoyed being Supreme Leader. In truth it was exhausting and tedious work, though he was loath to let Hux take a more commanding role. The snake was already suspicious of him and did little to try concealing that fact, even had Kylo not probed his mind.

He wandered over towards his bed, pulling clothes off at random and leaving them where they fell. By the time he reached the bed, only his pants remained. His hand was on his waistband when he felt a familiar tugging, his heart leaping at what it signified, and the noise around him seemed to disappear. Then, as if a vision, she stood before him.

Her expression mirrored his own surprise. He had thought the connection broken. It had been months since Crait and there had been no sign that they were still connected. He swallowed, mind and heart racing, unsure how to proceed. The last he had seen her she had given him a hard expression and quite literally shut a door in his face.

He wanted to reach out, to touch her. Sometimes, while he was trying to fall asleep, he would think of those times he had touched her, in her hut on the island and again in the elevator, and try to recall the exact feeling of fingertips touching, a hand on an elbow or the small of a back. And every time he realized anew that memory was a pale comparison to the real thing. As a small child his parents had held him, when he was sad, when he couldn’t sleep, but as he grew their physical affection had waned. By the time he destroyed the Jedi Temple it had been a long while since anyone had shown him physical affection. His uncle, certainly, had striven not to show favoritism and never treated Ben as a relative, never hugging, patting on shoulder for a job well done, or mussing his hair.

As he stared at her now, these thoughts racing through his head, he realized she had a look very similar to the one she wore during their first force connection. Loathing. He swallowed, supposing it was not entirely unfounded, though wishing desperately that she would see his side. He had thought he found a companion in her, someone who finally understood him. He certainly had felt drawn to her from a time before they had even met.

She narrowed her eyes at him, pressing her lips together, her chest heaving with each breath. She was truly angry with him.

“Rey – “

She cut him off. “Stop.” Shaking her head she asked, “Why?”

He took a step towards her but she retreated a step backwards. “Why what?” He suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu. They had had this conversation before.

She stared at him, her gaze piecing him. He swallowed, waiting for her reply. She seemed to be warring with herself, but finally replied, “Why did you try to kill me?”

He frowned at her, completely nonplussed. “I didn’t.”

“The Millennium Falcon – “

He rushed to cut her off. “That was a mistake.” He took another step forward and she in turn took another step back. “I want you with me. I have from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I wanted you too, Ben.”

His heart leapt at those words, though he sensed she wasn’t finished.

“But we have differing priorities. I want peace. You only want to kill those who oppose you…and those who love you.”

He knew she was referring to his mother, though he also dared hope she included herself in that category. He didn’t know how to reply, but was saved from having to when she winked out from in front of him.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, he thought often of their conversation. Hux often vocalized his frustration at Kylo not paying proper attention and care to the finding and eradication of the Resistance. The problem, of course, was that he no longer wished to destroy them. Or more precisely he did not wish to destroy his mother and Rey.

His heart constricted slightly at the thought of his mother. He hadn’t seen her in many years, but having felt her all those months ago prior to her bridge being blasted open had left his heart feeling ragged in a way it hadn’t in years. If he was being honest with himself he had been devastated at the thought he had lost her. He had been so consumed by his rejection and anger on Crait that he had failed to realize she was still alive. Now however, how was he supposed to eradicate the Resistance when the two people he cared most for were a part of it.

This thought kept him awake at night and was where his mind was at when he again felt the tug and sudden absence of sound. Lying on his back he turned his head, finding her lying next to him, her eyes wide. Barely a moment after he realized the implication of her in his bed she leapt up and walked backwards, stopping abruptly halfway across the room.

He sat up slowly and they stared. Again her chest was heaving, though he sensed this time it was in panic and…something else, something she herself had yet to define. He wondered if she had been thinking of him as he had her.

Slowly he got out of bed, stalking towards her. Her fists clenched at her sides and he wondered if perhaps he had her backed against a wall, nowhere for her to go. He stopped a foot away and she tilted her head up, eyes trained on a spot over his shoulder. He barely restrained his smile, liking that the sight of his chest and proximity should affect her so.

“Look at me,” he spoke softly.

She took a slow deep breath in and closed her eyes, refusing his request and seeming to press herself into whatever barrier was behind her.

Her proximity made it hard for him to breathe, so starved was he for the feel of her. Slowly, hoping for a reaction, any reaction, he raised his hand and traced his fingers down her cheek. She swiftly opened her eyes and smacked his hand away.

“Don’t,” she said, venom dripping from the word.

He frowned, wondering where the venom had come from after weeks of no contact.

“What’s wrong?”

She suddenly pushed his chest with both hands, knocking him back a step or two in his surprise, and ran past him. When she had several feet of distance between them she turned around, pointing a finger at him.

“I can’t do this.”

He shook his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“This!” She gestured between the two of them. “I can’t be connected with you. I can’t feel what you feel. I can’t…I can’t…” She swallowed, shoulders drooping in defeat. “I can’t.”

Once again he was saved from responding by her disappearance, though this time it left him feeling hollow.

* * *

 Over a month passed after that, and the crew began to avoid him. Over a month and he still had not been able to fully process his last encounter with her. As such, he took to channeling these unresolved feelings into barking orders at people, shouting at the smallest infraction, and generally flinging people about when they annoyed him.

For not the first time he wished he had control of the connection between the two of them. If he did he would ignite it and demand an explanation for why she continues to refuse him. This frustration often led him to destroy things in his quarters. And it was during one such tantrum that she appeared.

“I see nothing has changed.”

He dropped the lamp and whipped around, a flush creeping up his neck at being found destroying property. He ignored the sensation and walked briskly over to her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

Without realizing he was doing it, he gave her a little shake. “Why? Give me an answer!”

Behind her attempt at an apathetic expression he glimpsed fear in her eyes and loosened his grip, reigning in his temper. His thumbs rubbed the top of her shoulders as his eyes darted back and forth between hers. “Please tell me why you can’t.”

She didn’t answer, instead licking her lips and chewing on her bottom one. His breath quickened as he watched her teeth scrape across the delicate skin. He looked up at her eyes to find her shyly watching him, pink tinting her cheeks.

They remained locked together, frozen, staring into each other’s eyes. After many long moments her own eyes dropped to his lips. He swallowed, his pulse taking off, heart beating in his ears. He didn’t dare move, afraid the moment would shatter, but instead watched her eyes and the conflict he saw raging there. He felt magnetized towards her, the effort to stop himself from leaning down requiring all his restraint.

He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. The life he had led up to this point had not prepared him for a moment like this. He had barely begun considering the opposite sex when his parents shipped him off to the Jedi academy. There had been females there of course, and plenty of his fellow students had taken to experimenting, but with his uncle’s eye constantly upon him he himself had not done much experimenting. In this moment he felt a little silly, a grown man, so inexperienced, and vein of uncertainty wound its way into his heart.

As if sensing it, she suddenly pulled away from him, the moment broken. He felt the loss acutely. She took a few steps away and then turned back around. It seemed as if she needed space between them when speaking. He took note of it, for future examination.

“I can’t,” she said, answering the question he had forgotten he had asked, “because our philosophies, our morals, don’t align. I wish for peace in the galaxy, freedom from tyranny.” She stood taller, as if steeling herself. “And you are the tyrant.”

Hearing her describe him as such sent a pang through his heart. This was not the first time she had described him unfavorably, but it was the first since they had shared their feelings in her hut on the island. He felt his bottom lip quiver and quickly pressed his lips together to stop it.

“Is that all I’ll ever be to you?” he asked softly.

Pity entered her expression. “I had hope for you once. I thought I saw a future where we were together but,” she shook her head, “I was wrong.”

He shook his head and reached for her, but she was gone before he could grasp her shoulders again.

* * *

The days blurred together, one day bleeding into the next. Apathy took hold of him, somehow more frightening than his anger to those beneath him. He began to feel his isolation more acutely than he had before. He sparred with his Knights of Ren to try to regain his passion, but not even vigorous battle simulations could break through the apathy. His Knights had never been his friends exactly. Snoke had seen to it that he was viewed as their leader, not their comrade, and this late in the game there was nothing he could do to change that view.

It was during one uneventful night as he sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, that he found himself suddenly staring at her feet. He didn’t raise his head, unsure which version of loathing he would find in her eyes this time.

She stood before him for many long moments. Then softly, so softly that he thought he must be imagining it, he felt her fingers in his hair. He closed his eyes and without realizing his intent he leaned forward, pressing his head into her hands.

Rather than pushing him away she ran both hands through his hair. Over and over she caressed his head, nails dragging on his scalp, combing through tangles and knots. It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he had a nightmare as a child. The affection had a cathartic effect on his mood and, rather embarrassingly, he found himself holding back a sob.

As if sensing his mood, her fingers left his hair and pulled him towards her. He laid his head against her abdomen, arms immediately going around her waist. She rested one hand on the back of his head and the other, hesitantly at first, began rubbing circles on his back.

Despite his every effort not to, a sob broke through and with it a flood of emotions coursed through the broken dam. He squeezed her tighter, surely to the point of pain, and when the emotions were spent he hugged her still, inhaling the scent of her. Truth be told, he dreaded the moment when he had to pull away, having laid himself bare before her. Where did they – where did he – go from here?

In the end it was she who moved first, grabbing both his arms and pulling them away from her waist. He steeled his emotions and forced himself to look up. What he saw was a boiling cauldron of emotions swimming in her eyes.

“Ben,” she whispered.

“Rey,” he responded. “Tell me what I have to do.”

She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled shyly. “This.”

He frowned, not understanding.

She spoke again, trying to convey her meaning. “I just want you to…to be a person.”

He blinked at her several times, attempting to understand her meaning. “Be a person,” he repeated in monotone.

She sighed, seeming frustrated at her lack of ability to communicate. “Yes. Be Ben Solo. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren isn’t a person. It’s a mask for you to hide behind, to make sure you can dictate how people treat you. It’s a way for you to hide from the world, to hide from your mistakes.”

He considered her words, looking between both her eyes. “I don’t know how to be Ben Solo.”

She smiled at him. “Well, tonight you made a pretty good start.”

And as if she had planned that way, she vanished from in front of him.

* * *

Over the next days he considered her desire, the desire to have Ben Solo back. It ate at him, for he did not know how to give her what she wanted. It occurred to him that he had never felt for anyone the way he felt for her. He supposed this might be what love was, though he had nothing by which to measure it. His own parents claimed to love one another but they were so rarely in the same place when he was younger, and when they were there was constant bickering. He recalled wondering why love was so angry when he was very young.

He surprised himself when he realized he truly wanted to give Rey her heart’s desire. He was tired of leadership, tired of loneliness. But even should he wish to return to his old life, he knew it to be an impossibility. He supposed his mother might welcome him home, but what of the rest of the Resistance? He shook his head. It wasn’t possible.

This thought wormed its way into his head at all hours of the day, demanding to be considered. He found himself planning the destruction of the First Order and his own escape. He daydreamed of a galaxy at peace, a galaxy free to choose its own leadership, like the days of the old republic.

And he waited. He waited for the connection to bring him back to her. Days passed. Then weeks. His patience was stretched to the point of breaking. He wanted to see her, to talk through plans, to show her that he had changed. When he was in the privacy of his own quarters he dared daydream of her, of the possibility of intimate moments between them. He daydreamed of the feel of her nails scraping his scalp, the way his arms almost looped around twice on her tiny waist, the way she chewed her bottom lip. This in particular made his pulse start racing and in his sleep he dreamed of kissing her.

One day, several months after the last time they were connected, he walked into his quarters to find her standing in the middle of the room. He stopped, shock rooting him to the spot. He drank in the sight of her, taking his time looking first down and then up until he reached her eyes. What he saw was a mirror of his own desire.

Without thinking of the implications, he took two long strides towards her, catching her by the waist and leaning down, pressing his lips to hers. He tilted his head first to one side, then the other, nipping at the lips he had dreamed about. This was better than his dreams, better than anything he had yet experienced. Her lips were soft, her body pliant and pressed against his own. Her arms snaked around his neck and his other arm snaked around her waist. He pulled her up level with him, her feet left dangling several inches off the floor. He squeezed her tighter, one arm leaving her waist to travel up to her face, his hand caressing her cheek as he continued to devour her mouth, teeth and tongues comingling, sometimes clashing together. He sensed her fears of inexperience mirroring his own and sought to assuage them.

Reluctantly he pulled away, she chasing his lips with her own. Their faces were mere inches apart as they both attempted to catch their breath. He swallowed and whispered, “I’ve never done this.” Her lips, bruised and red, parted in surprise.

“You haven’t?” It was only two words and yet he sensed an immense amount of hope and relief behind them.

He shook his head. “No. Never.”

She stared at him, breathing heavily, for an eternity. Then she slid down him until her feet again touched the floor.

Now that his impatience had been allayed by their passionate kisses, he sought to show her his progress.

“I’m planning the end of the First Order,” he blurted.

She froze, staring up at him.

“I don’t want it,” he continued. “Any of it. I just…” He paused, wondering if he dared speak his feelings aloud.

“You just what?” she whispered, her eyes round as saucers.

His heart rate, only now slowing down, began racing again. His eyes looked between hers, searching for any sign that she returned his exact feelings, that she wasn’t going to reject him again.

“You just what?” she asked again, desperation in her tone.

Taking a deep breath he admitted the truth. “I just want you.”

She stared at him for a single unending moment. Her eyes filled with tears, and she seemed to have stopped breathing. He was frantically trying to figure out why she would be crying when she launched herself up at him, their teeth knocking painfully together as she pressed her lips to his. Neither of them cared, too caught in the passion of the moment. She broke the kiss only to pepper the rest of his face with kisses. She grabbed his head and pulled him down, kissing his eyelids, his cheeks. By the time she reached the corners of his mouth she slowed, taking her time, lingering on each side. He allowed her this, though his body trembled with the restraint he exercised to keep from devouring her. When at last she kissed his lips again, she did so gently, returning her arms around his neck, standing on tip toe.

Without breaking the kiss, he swept a hand under her legs and carried her over to his bed, sitting down with her on his lap. She pulled away suddenly, looking first at the bed and then back at him, panic evident in her wide eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t want to do that like this.” He combed a hand through her hair and leaned forward, kissing her jaw. “I just want to do this.” He moved to the other side, kissing just below her ear. “And this.” He pulled back to look at her in the eyes. “And this.” He leaned forward slowly, touching her lips softly at first, then with more urgency as the passion between them built once more.

They sat like that, on the edge of his bed, like two teenagers discovering the wonders of love for the first time. They kissed each other, hands roving over bodies, discovering what the other responded to. When at last they pulled apart, the urgency between them eased, he pulled her down with him. She lay next to him with her head on his chest, while he absently combed his fingers through her hair.

They discussed his plans to end the First Order, their plans for convincing the Resistance to keep him alive, and also their plans for being together. They both fell asleep late into the night and when he woke, she was gone.

* * *

When it was all over, the war, the First Order, even the Resistance, who had nothing left to resist, they at last found another moment alone. The reunion with his mother went about as well as could be expected. He bore a red hand print on his cheek and bruised ribs from her hug. Once all plans for the future of the republic had been hashed out and celebrated, they were finally allowed a moment to themselves. His mother offered up his childhood home for their privacy, claiming she was needed in the capital anyway.

Once inside his home, he allowed her to wander around while he took their meager belongings upstairs. He paused a moment, wondering which room to go into. His had a bed not even large enough to fit himself let alone another person, but the other room was his parents’. He felt a pang of sadness go through him at the thought and turned in the opposite direction towards the guest quarters. He set their things down and turned around to find her in the doorway watching him.

She took a hesitant step towards him, hunger and fear in her eyes. He closed the gap between them, but rather than kiss her he simply wrapped his arms around her and breathed “Thank you.”

She melted against him and responded with “Thank you for choosing me.”

He pulled away, taking her face in his hands and looking at her seriously. “Always.” He leaned down to kiss her. “I will always choose you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please let me know. Thanks! :)


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